Tag Archives: Philip Linden^*~~!

prick

“What happened to you? Tell me *every-thing.*”

“There was this other man. Todd. Lured me into a trap. Triangles.”

“Triangles?”

“Irresolved, he said. Called me in to help.”

“Mushrooms?” she picked up. “Should have let him down. Slow and eassy.”

“Yeah, I know that *now*.”

“Right. Okay. Continue.”

“A dreaming boy. 5 cats out on a limb. The boy dreams the cats, the limb. It is he. They are waiting for the one who chops the limb off. Fallen.”

Uninjured Wonderlady sits back. “How is High Fidelity doing anyway?”

With this they enter the sphere (*POP*).

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0402, Illinois, Nautilus^^, Slaashsides

Unhappy

It all started again with the formation of Thornwood. Thornwood exists: I exist, the Rose be damned. But that was the problem. I couldn’t find the roses again because of the thorns. This was an existential dilemma. Rosehaven also did not exist now. Instead: Rose Heaven. Witch Hazel *must* be suppressed (!). She could destroy this queendom-kingdom with a single, steely glance of those evil, dead white eyes. Powerful.

I clutch my Philip Linden doll even tighter. I miss my daddy, *sigh*.

“Don’t you think,” I can hear Tessa in my head (if not in reality, at least currently), “that the truth lies in the ruined village now partially in Thornwood?” I realized this was just me reflecting back to me, but it helped.

The background sound of static. I knew I was back in Room 1898, sleeping in that oh so comfy bed of ours. Tilists — always with the static at night. I wake up (let’s say). Who is beside me? Charlene the Punk? Probably not — (she was) several girls ago. Probably that girl Gigi who hangs around the bar all the time. Just like me. Whatever’s handy at the moment. But I mustn’t wake up, must dream a little longer. I unclutch the doll pillow and turn its face toward me. “What would Philip Linden do?” I ask it. Slot Mountain! came the answer in my own enlarged skull.  I hadn’t thought of that slitted peak and attached haunted castle in a long time. Not since…

Time is all mixed up for me now. I know I’m dreaming but it’s even worse than that, because when I wake up, it will still be all wonky, like Willa. Hey, I could use that (expression) in my memoirs: Wonky like Willa. Slip in some more comments about chocolate and sweets in general to balance things out. Maybe delete that section about arsenic; too much of a downer, like the barbiturate section I eliminated previously. But here I am, wasting precious dream time on my memoir planning. I try to see who is in the bed with me. I’m clutching my Philip doll again, still in the dream.

Behind me, the square piece of land representing Illyria slides up and Thornwood appears in the gap, but brown instead of white like the others. Winter hasn’t come yet, at least not here in the yarn shop. Yarn Shop! Rosehaven? How did I get here?

Wormholes. Must — control — the — wormholes.

I can’t see Green at all now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0113, Black Ice, Canada/Picturetown, NWES Island^, Rose Heaven^^

soon

At the top of Slot Mountain, Phillip’s head becomes bigger, anticipating a screw.

Sorry, but that’s just what he was thinking. The important thing: the mastermind behind Our Second Lyfe is here on the island; the slit acted as an attractor.

“I remember you. That Jeogeot art thing.”

“Yeah,” I replied beside him. “We’re back.” I took a breath and looked down into the slot. It all started here, I remember. On this island.

“I died (!).”

“Yup.”

“Blimey.”

His head got big again. He jumped into the slot, trying it out. Didn’t work. He jumped back up. “I so want to get this *over* with.”

“There’s only one way and you know it,” I spoke. “Begin again.”

He jumped back down. He couldn’t help himself. Longer this time. I realized what he was. Back he comes, head diminished. But the whole process is slowing down up here. “When *does* it start?” he asks at the lip. “I mean: life itself. I’m down there but I’m not down there. I’m up here as well.”

“Art,” I said. “Takes time. Building the proper receptacle.”

“A mountain, a castle,” he ritually pronounced.

He tries again, yet more successful.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0104, NE Hills, NWES Island^

platinum

“Umbrella, Hucka Doobie. It’s closer than you think.”

“I know.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0604, Teepot^^

another linden wood

You look astonished. Is it possible you have never heard of the ominous Lime-Tree, and the Fatal Bough? Why, ’tis a common tale hereabouts, and has been for centuries. Any old crone would tell it you.

After passing through a Green Cypress Tree tree near the top of a grassy knoll, The Monk entered the southeast corner of Rookwood proper. None of the other sims mattered now. He could focused in on the task of finding Phillip’s grave…

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0218, Corsica^^, Linden Memorial Park^

Southwest and Northwest (seed)

“Yeah I knew it was soda all along. I was just riffing you.” Phillip Linden was trying to act cool. Just because he *created* all this doesn’t mean he’s not still behind the times. Creators loose control of their creation. It’s a given once it’s let loose in the world. Real Life. No trademark on *that*.

“Soooo. Are you by chance part of the Yellow Group that’s, ahem, taken over? Through the peaks, I mean. I’m just asking because you’re…”

“Yellow?” the perpetually soda spilling man without a name so far finishes for the famed world creator. World of Lime that is. Lemon World is different. “I might be.” His cell phone rings — good timing. “I have to take this.”

“Sure, sure.”

—–

“Is he there?” the ant being asked one of his loyal workers.

“Yeah. He’s here.” The yellow man stares over as Phillip’s head gets big again. Like a screwdriver.

“Put him on. I want to speak with him. About Rookwood,” the ant punctuates ominously.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0212, Corsica^^, Northwest^, Southwest^

other direction

“There’s yet more to see in Heartsdale, Hucka Doobie.”

“Sure.”

—–

Kate McCoy was brought in because she can read braille. She translates the diary. “We can see into Room 05 but not 04. We are blinded in that direction.” She changes into little Katy Kidd, eyes turned up toward Phillip’s.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0116, Heartsdale^^

Corsican Collagesity 06

Perspective has changed at De House. Mann has lost wo-Mann in a way, in a manner. A hole has been formed in the middle. Witches. Which witch is which? What is good and what is baad?

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Filed under 0019, 0706, collages 2d, Michigan

Corsican Collagesity 05

He was in the cemetery again, neither Phillip nor Lime but *both*. Or in-between. “A linden in England is called a lime,” he recalls from his days as a Gaeta bartender. He also remembers “Rookwood”.

He is buried here. He imagines being within the grave, staring up.

He resists the urge to smoke even though it no longer matters now.

He spirals inside the grave to a different place altogether. He has Vertigo but it doesn’t drive him crazy. Instead: sane.

He is in his own world now, at his own Hills dividing Maebaleia aka Satori into 2 parts, North and South. He *created* this. But then another comes in and tries to take it over. He remembers more from the bar: philosophical discussions about a cubic moon of Our Second Lyfe, and even a Moon of the Moon where avatars are shrunk down greatly from normal size to accommodate the small space. Space. Corners. Cube. Furthest corners of Space. The Moon is relatively close. Far out.

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Filed under 0019, 0705, Virginia

Corsican Collagesity 04

And so we end at the Hills of Bill again in the center of Maebaeleia, where an agreement between the World of Lemon and Lime World was forged, thanks to Yoko Ona in large part. She is a witch, true. But, we hope, a white one, working for the forces of good instead of evil. That is really our only hope moving forward. Because if not — we’re *all* screwed.

—–

“The agreement, dear *Lindens*,” she speaks in the yard before the legendary trailer, is that John and I will move forward into a new continent and create a new religion called *Peakology*, beyond the Sinkology that has dominated Our Second Lyfe so far. The first 3 true peaks are the Hills of Bill here: Turtle, Sifton, and then right here, at the highest, the namesake Bill Hill. We go within to sign the contract, to seal the deal. The continent of *Corsica* is born from *Maebaleia*.

“Okay,” Phillip utters.

—–

“Phillip, are you paying attention?”

“I’m paying attention.” He stops attempting to see the shortest of the three Hills of Bill, Turtle Hill (or Butte), from this higher vantage point. About 2 sims east it should be, he estimates correctly. But the blinds block his vision. He is blinded in that direction. But he could have *swore* the agreement was suppose to be signed there, in that more centrally placed position on the continent recently devastated by the 3 1/2 day North-South Civil War. He and Flat Ebbe and Flat Rodvik, Lindens all, are here to put a stop to all that. They were willing to admit failures in the past that caused all the conflict and division. But why the switch of location? It seemed meaningful. He couldn’t get it out of his big fat head. Options, he kept thinking. Options are important.

In truth, everything was still secretly revolving around The Room, even though no one present understood that.

—–

Phillip just blurted it out as Yoko Ona was penciling in some final corrections on the contract at the dining room table. “Why *not* Turtle Hill — or Butte?”

“This is the *highest* of the hills, the *namesake*. We talked about this in the phone call from this morning. You sure you guys don’t want to sit down?”

“They’re fine,” Phillip answers for both once more. The Flats are only here as witnesses.” In case something goes wrong he says to himself, hoping for the best (again).

She slides the amended paper across to him. He moves his elbows closer to the blue table to study. He’s read it all before, but just wanted to note the changes Yoko Ona mentioned in the call. “Bill Hill,” she insisted in it. “Turtle Hill (or Butte) is *in* the Hills of Bill but not Bill Hill itself. It should be signed there.”

“But Turtle is more central,” he began the counterargument, which continues.

He imagines staring down at a giant lime instead of a contract. Where has he seen this before?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0704, Hills of Bill^, Maebaleia/Satori^^